Things Fall Apart
by Deadalive15
Summary: Juliet has managed to keep a huge secret from everyone for the past four years, but when something happens, she is forced to reveal the biggest and most rewarding mistake of her life and the reason she left Miami. Rating to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is already posted on as a response to "The Real Reason She Left Miami" challenge.

If any of you are wondering, I'm really sorry but I'll probably not be picking my previous fic, You Can't Say Murder in a Theater, back up any time soon. That's not to say it will never get finished, but if you haven't already, consider it officially on hiatus.

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Things Fall Apart

Chapter 1

It's funny how sometimes, when you least expect them to, things can go horribly, terribly wrong, and, in the blink of an eye, your entire life has ended. It's funny sometimes, how quickly things can spiral out of control. It's a fact of life that, eventually, things fall apart. The only question is when. Things fall apart, but I never thought it would happen to me.

The first thing I do after I wake up is cross the living room and slowly open the door of the bedroom across from mine. I silently approach the side of the bed and wait for the familiar sounds of inhaling and exhaling. I breath a sigh of relief that my daughter has made it through another night. Then I go back to my bedroom and complete my usual morning rituals.

My daughter has dilated cardiomyopathy. This means that her heart muscle is stretched and can't pump blood properly. It affects about six kids in every million per year. She was diagnosed six years ago, when she was three. We'd noticed when we were at the park that she couldn't go as long as the other kids without having to rest and catch her breath. The next year, while our daughter was still fairly healthy, my husband died.

After showering, fixing my hair into its customary bun, and applying makeup, I return to the other bedroom and gently jostle my daughter's sleeping form.

"Grace," I whisper. "Grace."

"What?" she asks groggily, her eyes still closed.

"I'm going to leave as soon as Megan gets here," I say, referring to the college student I've hired this summer to take care of Grace while I'm at work. "Remember, Tom will be here at ten," I refer now to the tutorer that comes every weekday to make sure Grace doesn't fall behind. He works with Grace year-round, because she gets too tired to work for too many hours a day. "How did you sleep?" I asked.

"It didn't wake me up," Grace answers, laying a hand on her chest, over her heart.

"Good," I smile. "I'll see you after work. Let Megan call me if something goes wrong. Remember, she's not a nurse yet. She doesn't know anything about this."

Grace's ICD, implantable cardioverter defibrillator, shocking her back to life once every couple of days is customary for us, but for a nineteen-year-old, the idea that one's charge's heart has stopped can be quite frightening.

Grace nodded and buried her face back in her pillow, half asleep already.

"I'll see you when I get home," I said once more. "We'll have chicken tonight."

"With cheese on top?" Grace asks.

"Of course," I replied. Chicken topped with melted cheese is Grace's favorite meal. She has dietary restrictions, low salt to avoid fluid retention and high calories to help with growth. "Have a banana for breakfast," I add, because one of her medications causes low potassium.

"I know," Grace grumbles. "Bye Mom." This is my cue to leave. I know that Grace is tired. It's early. I'm tired and I don't have a heart defect.

"Bye," I whisper, closing the door.

Megan arrives as I'm putting on my shoes.

"She's still sleeping," I inform her. "Make sure she's eaten breakfast and had her medicine by ten, when the tutorer gets here. If she needs a nap after he leaves, that's fine. She gets tired easily. All the food in the house is okay for her too eat. She knows her dietary restrictions. I should be home by five-thirty. I'll let you know if I'm running late. If you have any questions that Grace doesn't know the answer to, if anything happens, please don't hesitate to call. Kathy in the apartment right above us watches Grace during the school year, so she should be able to provide quick help if you need it." Megan nodded, clearly overwhelmed. "I have to go," I say. "I'm running late. Thank you for this." And with that, I'm out the door and on my way to the station.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You're late," Lassiter states as I hurry though the station.

"I know," I answer shortly. "Where's that paperwork on the Daryl Hunt case?"

"Done," Lassiter replied.

"You did it?" I ask incredulously. "Carlton, thanks!"

"Don't look at me," Lassiter says. "The chief wouldn't get off my back until she had it. Said she didn't care who it came from."

"So who did it, then?" I ask, wishing he would get to the point.

"McNabb," Lassiter tells me. "I told him it would give him a leg up when the new detective position opens after Bigby retires.

"That's horrible," I exclaim.

"What's horrible?" I hear a voice from behind me, and Lassiter's face suddenly evolves from subtle enjoyment into anger. I turn to see Shawn and Gus walking up behind me. "That they turned down our offer to make bright green snuggies that said Psych on them? Wow, Lassie, I had no idea how much you cared."

"What are you doing here Spencer?" Lassiter snarls.

"Duh," Shawn says as if the answer should have been obvious. "I got a message from the spirits that our services were required here. Or maybe they were coming from the Dunkin Donuts down the street. We stopped there on the way, just in case, but they didn't look like they were in any trouble."

"Other than the fact that they were out of cinnamon munchkins," Gus mutters.

Shawn turns to him. "Oh, get over it," he says. "I told you the chocolate ones were just as good."

"I was in the mood for cinnamon, Shawn," Gus replies.

"Enough about the donuts," Lassiter says. "If you two don't have any real business to attend to—"

"So Jules," Shawn interrupts. "How was your morning? I'm sensing that you were late getting out of the house."

"Wow, Shawn, that's amazing," I answer, amazed. "How did you know?"

"I don't ask how my gift works," Shawn says as Gus rolls his eyes. "I just embrace that it does."

Just then, my cell phone starts ringing, How to Save a Life, by The Fray. The ringtone that plays when Grace calls is cleverly disguised so that only I'll know what it means.

"I have to take this," I say, walking away from the group, leaving Shawn and Lassiter to argue over the importance of donuts in the morning. "Grace," I say quietly once I'm out of earshot. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, Mom," Grace says, and for once, I'm shocked to hear, she sounds happy. "The beeper's going off."

"What? Really?" I ask, hoping she isn't mistaken. Grace's cardiologist, Dr. Chen, gave us that beeper, explaining that it would go off only when a hear was available for Grace. She's been on the transplant list for two-and-a-half years now.

"Yes," Grace answers. "I'm holding it right now."

"Okay," I say, cutting through the group still converged around my desk to grab my bag. "I'll call Dr. Chen. Get ready to go. I'll be there in five. Have Megan carry you to the bottom of the stairs."

"Mom, I can still go down stairs by myself," Grace argues. "Just not up them."

"Hon, I just don't want to take any chances," I explain. "Not when we're so close. I'll be there in a few minutes," I say, getting ready to hang up. "Be waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Grace has spent five-and-a-half hours being prepped for surgery. The minute the new heart arrives, she'll be ready. I know that there's a chance she won't wake up. When she was first placed on the transplant list at six years old, that was all I could think about, the risks of the surgery, but two-and-a-half years of watching one's daughter grow sicker and weaker, to point where she can no longer climb stairs or walk far enough to get the corner where her bus stop would be if she was still in school, really changes the way a person thinks. I don't worry about the transplant anymore, because while I know that there's a chance she might die if she gets this surgery, I know she definitely will if she doesn't.

We we've just gotten word that the organ harvest has begun. Any minute now the heart will be finished with its final tests and arriving in a cooler.

"Mom," Grace says. "What do you think Dad would say if he was here?"

I smile sadly. Grace was only four years old when her father was killed. She hardly remembers him. "I think he would tell you to be brave," I say. "And that everything will be okay."

"That's not what I meant," Grace sighs. I know what she meant. When Ryan died, Grace was on three medications, but she was healthy enough to enjoy jumping on beds and crossing the monkey bars, just like any other little girl. His dream, which was foiled when Grace was diagnosed, was for her to play baseball, because he'd always wanted to coach.

"I think he'd be very proud," I answer, because even though Grace can't do any of the things we dreamed about when she was born, she's still the strongest little girl I've ever met.

"Juliet," someone says behind me. I turn to see Dr. Chen poking his head in the door. He's on first name terms with me by now. We've been seeing him since we moved here four years ago.

"The tests are back," he lowers his voice, even though I've closed the door to Grace's room. "I'm sorry, Juliet, but this isn't the day."

"What?" I ask, shocked.

"We found HIV antibodies," Dr. Chen explains. That disqualifies the donor.

I look though the window at Grace. Her hair, the same color as mine, is fanned out beneath her head. Her skin, pale with a slightly blue tinge, is almost lost in the pillow and sheets. She sits up when she sees me turn to her. Sadly, I shake my head. She understands.

"It could be months, years, before another heart becomes available," I whisper. "How long can she make it?"

Dr. Chen sighs. "We'll just have to hope for months rather than years," he answers.

I nod and turn back into the room. Grace has flopped back down onto the pillow. "Can we still have chicken tonight?" she asks. I can hear the strain in her voice as she tries to keep it from cracking.

"Of course, baby," I answer. "And we'll get something for after dinner, something special, anything you want."

"Chocolate brownies," Grace says. "With vanilla ice cream."

"Sure," I say, trying to smile. "And we'll watch a movie while we eat. What do you think."

"Okay," Grace answers slowly. "Scary or funny?"

"Funny, of course," I answer. "We need something light."

Grace knows I'm only trying to cheer her up. What she doesn't know is that however disappointed she is, I'm at least twice that, because if she…doesn't make it, I'll the she'll leave behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"It just didn't happen," I'm talking to the chief on my cell phone. Grace has gone to bed and I need to let her know that I will, in fact, be at work tomorrow.

"What went wrong?" The chief asks. She's the only one who knows about Grace, only because there's no conceivable way to keep it from her, but she understands my reasoning for wanting to keep it between us.

"Apparently, the donor had HIV," I explain. "Automatic disqualification."

"Figures," the chief replies.

"What did you tell everyone else?" I ask. "About why I left like that?"

"Personal issues," the chief answered. "I didn't specify, though Detective Lassiter and Mr. Spencer were relentless."

"Well, that's to be expected," I answer, almost smiling for a moment.

"How is she?" the chief asks quietly.

"She's in remarkable good spirits," I sigh. "Disappointed, understandably."

"Are you sure you're coming in tomorrow?" the chief asks.

"I just want to go back to normal as soon as possible," I explain. "Forget today ever happened. Taking an extra day of will just drag things out."

The chief hangs up and I stop pacing, like I always do when I'm on the phone, and sit down on the couch, finally letting the reality of what almost happened sink in. That's when I start to cry, something I haven't done since my husband's funeral. I take pride in being tough, hard to crack, but when reality hits, it hits hard, and my daughter could have been cured today.

I reach for a throw pillow and press it to my mouth to muffle the sound, but not soon enough. The door to the second bedroom opens and a small pale figure emerges.

"Mom?" she asks hesitantly. "Are you okay?" I don't blame her for her uneasiness. I'm sure she doesn't remember her father's funeral. She's never seen me cry.

I nod, but when I open my mouth to speak, only a strangled cry escapes. Instead, I gesture for her to come over.

"It's okay, Mom," she whispers. "They'll find another heart." I wish I had my daughter's optimism, her confidence. She snuggles into my side, and I wrap an arm around her. I can feel her heartbeat.

"I won't let you go," I whisper.

Grace looks at me, confused. She's nine years old, and didn't understand what I was insinuating. She answers, "But I'm not going anywhere."

We sit like that for nearly an hour, and I have finally reduced my sobs to a light trickle when the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Grace exclaims. It is one of the few similarities that Grace still shares with other kids her age, the love of answering the door.

Behind me, I hear the door open. "Hello?" Grace says. I can tell by the tone of her voice that she doesn't know the visitor.

"Hi," replies a voice that I recognize instantly. "I must have the wrong house. I'm looking for Juliet O'Hara."

I turn to see a confused-looking Shawn Spencer standing in my doorway, staring right at me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Shawn," I say, once I've regained my speech. "What are you doing here?"

"Jules, you almost sound like Lassie," Shawn states before answering. "I sensed you needed something."

"Shawn, no offense, but I really can't talk right now," I reply.

"I can see that," Shawn answers, looking down at Grace. "I haven't had the pleasure," he says, holding his hand out to my daughter. "Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, SBPD."

"I know," Grace replies. She's heard stories about Shawn, a lot of stories. "Grace," she shakes his hand.

"Jules, that's so rude. You're not going to introduce us?" Shawn asks.

"Really Shawn, now's not the time," I answer, turning back around. That's when Shawn realizes there's a problem.

"Jules, what's wrong?" he asks, and I am suddenly aware that's he is standing right behind the couch. I shake my head. I am aware of my reddened eyes, my disheveled hair, and my tear-stained face. I am also aware that no one outside my family has ever seen me in a state this vulnerable, this broken. This is my daughter. She's my responsibility, and I won't drag anyone else in. We don't need sympathy, we need a miracle.

"Come on Jules," Shawn says. Someone sits down next to me. I turn to tell Shawn to get off my couch, but then I realize that it's Grace. Shawn is still standing behind me.

"Shawn, it's none of your business," I say, hoping he will, knowing he won't, let it go.

"Need anything?" Shawn asks. "Food? Coffee?" I don't ask how Shawn knows that I ate very little dinner and am now starving. He takes my silence as a yes and turns in the direction of the kitchen.

I turn to Grace once he's in the other room. "It's getting late," I say softly. "You should get to be. You're going to be tired in the morning."

Grace nods and gets off the couch. "Do Megan and Tom know to come tomorrow?" She asks. She has a good point. Megan and Tom were both here when the beeper went off, and they will probably assume Grace is in the hospital recovering from surgery.

"I'll take care of it," I tell her. I know I'll have to call them, but I am dreading it. They'll want to know what happened, why Grace is home already, and I'll have to explain the circumstances of today all over again.

Grace has retreated into her room by the time Shawn returns, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He sets it on the table and sits down next to me. I let him, because I no longer have the energy to argue.

"Spill it, Jules," Shawn says. "What's going on?"

"Shouldn't you already know?" I ask, putting off an answer that is obviously going to have to come eventually.

"Why do I have to keep convincing people that that's not how the spirits work?" Shawn asks.

"Shawn, I just can't talk about this right now," I insist. Shawn nods, apparently satisfied, I am surprised. He's usually so curious. He never knows when to stop. "She's my daughter," I say before I can stop myself, and suddenly I am telling him everything. Once it starts, I can't stop myself. To my surprise, Shawn is quiet. He listens.

By the time I'm finished I have descended back into convulsed sobs. Shawn pulls me in, and I let him. He doesn't say anything. He lets me cry, and when I'm done, once the tears are fewer and far between and once I am finally able to catch my breath, he asks me once more if I am okay, if I need anything, and then he goes home.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I'm nervous when I enter the station the next morning. I don't know how much anyone will know. It all depends on Shawn, because I know he remembers what happened last night just as well as I do.

I hear the familiar sounds of Shawn and Lassiter arguing, as I do every morning. I hope I can take that as a sign that this morning is no different.

Shawn spots me arriving and the three of them approach my desk. I'm nervous until Shawn says, "Jules, Lassie says you don't need us on your newest case. Is this true?"

"What case?" I ask, silently scolding myself for not having checked my email last night."

"The Gredenko one," Lassiter answers, thinking that I just don't know which case they are referring to and need a memory jog, instead of the truth, which is that I wasn't aware we had a case.

"You know," Shawn says helpfully, because I'm guessing he knows I have no idea what they're talking about. "Elja Gredenko, the gang leader? The one Gus and I caught yesterday? The one who submitted a whole list of other gang leaders in return for immunity and witness protection?"

While I appreciate his hints, I still don't have enough to play a productive role in this conversation. I remain silent, but no one seems to notice, because Lassiter starts to talk right away. "Okay, first of all, Spencer, you and Mr. Gustor were there when he was caught. That's it. Second, she's read the case file; I don't think she needs a whole recap," but I silently mouth a thanks to Shawn over my partner's shoulder.

"Whoa now, Lassie," Shawn replies, giving Lassiter a pat on the shoulder. "Save it for the bad guys. I'm on your side."

"Yeah right," Lassiter mumbles, straightening his jacket.

"Shawn, can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask. "About the case," I add, so that Lassiter and Gus don't get suspicious. I lead Shawn casually to the coffee machine around the corner, so as to appear casual, but remain fairly out of sight, lest our expressions betray us.

"Thanks," I say. "I mean it."

"No problem," Shawn says quickly, getting to a point I know he has been think about all morning. "But listen, about last night—"

"You haven't said anything to anyone?" it's more of a statement than a question.

"No, of course not," Shawn answers. "But listen, about last night," he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I know nothing happened," he finally says. "But this…my gosh, Jules…you have a daughter."

"I know," I say apologetically. "I would have told you, but it had to stay between me and the chief."

"The chief knows," Shawn says.

"Yeah," I answer. "The chief had to know. She would have gotten suspicious when I kept leaving work early and taking personal calls if she didn't."

"Right," Shawn replies. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that if you ever need anything…"

"That's very sweet Shawn," I say. "But we're doing fine."

"What I mean is, if you ever need anyone," he rephrases. "To talk to, to take you out, whatever, I'm here."

"Thank you Shawn," I say, a little surprised. Here's Shawn Spencer, not making jokes, but having a serious conversation with me.

"I mean it," Shawn says. "I'll be over with one of Gus' cheesy romances and a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. We'll laugh at Lassie's new tie and Gus' new client." With that, he's right back to making jokes, as if the previous conversation has all been a dream, though I know it hasn't.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, I'm sorry for the delay. Life got in the way of my updating. But don't worry. I promise I'm going to finish this. I won't leave you hanging.

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Chapter 7

Though I told Shawn we are fine, I end up taking him up on his offer that very night. Grace isn't feeling well, and once I feed her a banana and send her to bed, I have nothing in the house to eat. Shawn shows up ten minutes after I call him with a pizza.

"Wow," he says when I answer the door. "I feel like I'm in some sort of secret club now."

"What's the password?" I ask, standing in the center of the doorway so he can't get in.

"Um," he opens the pizza box to check its contents. "Hawaiian pizza."

"Hawaiian?" I ask, raising my eyebrows and letting him in.

"Of course, Jules," he answers, as if it should have been obvious. "Ham and pineapple, what more could you want?"

"Oh, I don't know," I answer sarcastically. "Pepperoni?"

"Jules, that is so old school," he replies. "Pepperoni on a pizza? Come on, who does that anymore?"

I grab two plates from the cabinet and bring them to the table. "Thanks again," I say.

"Jules, it's no problem," Shawn assures me for at least the fifth time since I first called. "I wouldn't have offered my services if I didn't mean it. Which, by the way—"

"Shawn," I remind him, because he's starting to sound a little…like him. "There's a child in the house. PG, please."

"PG? Really, Jules?" he replies. "I was at least watching PG-13 when I was her age."

"Well," I say. "When you have a daughter, you can decide what she watches." Then we're silent for a few moments, which is probably why I am able to hear the door open. Grace emerges a few seconds later.

"Mom," she begins, but stops once she spots Shawn. "Are you on a date?" she asks.

"No, honey," I answer. "But, that's not what you came out here to ask me, is it?"

"I just heard voices," she replies. She turns to Shawn. "Isn't that the guy from last night?"

"Yeah," I say. "Shawn, remember?"

Grace nods. Then she sees the pizza. "Are you hungry?" I ask. She hasn't eaten much all day.

"For pizza? Yes," she says. "But that's not what you meant."

"We have salad," I offer, sympathetically. I wouldn't have asked Shawn to bring food Grace wasn't allowed to eat if I'd have known she would wake up.

She shakes her head, but joins us at the table anyway. "Are you feeling any better?" I ask. She looks up at me and nods. "Good," I say.

Grace's eyes roll back in her head and she slumps over in her chair. This is what it looks like when her heart stops and the ICD shocks her back to life. I hold my breath, like I always do, and wait her to wake back up. Shawn, who is not accustomed to this, jumps up.

"It's okay," I say when Grace's eyes flutter back open. "This happens sometimes."

"Mom, it happened yesterday too," Grace complains. Being shocked can be very painful, or so I've been told by Grace's doctors, and she's been getting shocked more frequently lately, a few times a week. I had been hoping it was just a coincidence, but it appears that this transplant has become a more urgent need.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Thanks again, Shawn," I say as he prepares to leave. "I owe you."

"Make me a meal tomorrow and we'll call it even," Shawn says. He means it as a joke, so he's twice as surprised when I agree.

"Jules," Shawn says more seriously, with caution. "What exactly is this?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, slightly confused.

"I mean," Shawn pauses, presumably deciding how to phrase his question. "Is this just you returning a favor or…"

Realization dawns on me, and I don't know what to tell him. "Somewhere in between?" I finally suggest.

"Somewhere in between," Shawn repeats. "So, the question is, will flip flops be entirely appropriate?"

"Flip flops will be fine," I assure him. "This is my house, we're talking about, not the Ritz-Carlton."

"In that case," Shawn replies. "What about my penguin suit. It's been hanging in my closet. I've been meaning to wear it."

"You have a penguin suit?" I ask, not completely sure if he's joking."

"Of course, Jules," Shawn now looks slightly offended. "Don't you remember? I got it at that garage sale last year. Gus says I talked about it for like, a week, but it definitely wasn't more than six days."

I smile. "If you really want to," I agree. I stand in silence for a moment. "Sorry about the scare with Grace's ICD."

"Please," Shawn replies. "A little warning next time. Maybe a 'Hey, my daughter's heart could stop at any minute, but don't worry about it. It'll restart.'"

"I'll remember that," I agree. "It's just been going of more and more lately, and we're just not sure…never mind," I decide, starting to turn around. "I won't bother you with this."

"No, Jules," Shawn grabs my arm to stop me. "You can tell me. I want you to tell me."

"It's just that…" I stop to consider what this knowledge will do to Shawn, weight the pros and cons of having someone to talk to versus burdening him with our problems. One look at his face and I've made my decision. "It's just that, you know she needs a new heart, and I'm not sure how much longer she can hold out."

"What did the doctor say?" Shawn asks.

"He said I should hope we find another heart in months, not years," I tell him. I have to admit, though I don't particularly like being dependant on someone else, it's nice to have someone to discuss this with again. It reminds me of when I was married.

As if he was reading my mind, Shawn says, "You miss him, don't you?"

"Who?" I ask, hesitant to disclose this particular information.

"Her father," Shawn answers. "This wasn't a one-night stand, was it? No, this was more."

"We were married," I admit, once again, cursing his psychic abilities. "Well, got married after I got pregnant, but I guess we probably would have ended up together anyway."

"I'm glad," Shawn says, and I detect a hint of sadness in his voice, though I'm not entirely sure why. "I'm glad you were happy."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Grace is excited when Shawn shows up the next evening. She keeps telling me I need to "get some." When I ask her where she got that from, she tells me she heard Megan use it on the phone.

We make salad, because Grace can eat that. We even own a multitude of dressings, because Grace and I have salad often enough as it is, and we need a variety of flavors to spice it up.

Grace answers the door when Shawn knocks. When she thinks I'm out of earshot, she asks him, "When was the last time you got some?"

"Some what?" Shawn asks, obviously confused.

"You know," Grace replies. "_Some_."

"Oh!" Shawn responds, now surprised. "Uhhh…" he says when he isn't sure how to answer. I decide to save him.

"Hi Shawn," I say, entering the room.

"Jules!" Shawn exclaims, glad to have a reason to change the subject. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," I answer. "We're ready to eat."

"Wow," he says. "I did feel that I should bring something, though."

"Shawn, you shouldn't have," I start to say as he sets a pineapple on the table.

"Nonsense, Jules," Shawn answers. "I found this deliciously ripe pineapple just sitting in Gus' refrigerator, and I thought it would be a nice touch."

"Shawn, you _really_ shouldn't have," I reply, thinking of a hungry Gus opening his refrigerator and wondering where his breakfast had gone. We would, of course, know exactly who took it.

"Mom, let's eat," Grace says, sitting down at the table. She's gone all day on very little food in preparation for tonight, because we even have dessert planned, but now she's starving, and I think it best, especially in her condition, to begin.

"Okay, okay," I answer. "Shawn," I gesture to a chair.

"Great," Shawn says, sitting down. "I'm seeing," he puts his fingers to his temples. "An array of salad dressings."

"Wow!" Grace is not used to Shawn's ability, and she is very impressed. "What color am I going to wear tomorrow?"

"Blue," Shawn answers quickly.

"What am I getting for my birthday?" Grace asks.

"I'm seeing it," Shawn says, taking a quick glance at me. "But the spirits are telling me to keep this one quiet. Nice try."

"When am I getting a heart?" she asks.

"Soon," Shawn answers, suddenly much more seriously, and I wonder if he knows that or if he's just making it up.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Grace is asleep and Shawn and I are putting away the dishes. I told him I would do them once he left, but he insisted on helping me load them into the dishwasher.

"Seriously Shawn," I say, once more. "You don't have to do this."

"Seriously Jules," Shawn mimics me. "I want to."

"I'm never going to get to completely repay that debt to you, am I?" I ask, because it will be true if he keeps doing me favors.

"I don't need you to," Shawn answers. "I went out and got a pizza. It was actually remarkably easy once I figured out how to get my bike in gear."

"Shawn," I say. "That's not what I meant."

Shawn understands. He walks across the kitchen and lays a hand on my shoulder. "Jules, this is not something you have to repay," Shawn tells me.

"Yes it is," I argue. "You're doing me such a huge favor."

"These aren't favors," Shawn replies. "If I remember correctly, I'm the one who offered my services to you in the first place. What kind of person would I be if I found out about something like this and just left you alone? What kind of friend would I be?"

"I don't like being in dept," I answer, a softer.

"You're not," Shawn tells me before removing his hand and walking back to the sink. "You don't have to do everything by yourself."

We are silent for a moment, before I suddenly blurt, "My husband was in a car wreck." The words surprise even me. Shawn turns around to examine me. "A year before we moved here," I continue. "Do you want to sit back down?" It is my way of telling him that I am about to disclose something huge. Shawn follows me to the couch, the one on which we sat on the night I told him everything.

"We were in college," I begin. "At a party. I had never been to a party before. I wasn't drinking. I was completely capable of making rational decisions." This is the disclaimer I gave my parents when I told them, the disclaimer I gave the chief, the disclaimer I gave Ryan. "I was there with my roommate, but she ditched me, so I was feeling really awkward," I continue. "And then Ryan started talking to me, and he wasn't having a good time either, so we left."

"And one thing led to another," Shawn finishes. I nod.

"We started dating after that," I finish. "So when I found out about Grace, we just got married, and I was really happy, and then he died, and I couldn't stay in Miami. I left everything."

"Did it help?" Shawn asks.

"Not at first," I admit. "But past it. We always get past it."

"Jules," Shawn says. "Are you happy?"

I stop to consider the question. I'm happier than I was, certainly, but not the happiest I've ever been. I guess I'm fairly happy, considering that my child is dying.

Shawn doesn't wait longer enough for me to decide on an answer before asking, "Would you be happier if you didn't have to go through this alone?" The answer to that question is easy, it's implications, however…

"Jules, I here for you," Shawn states, and I'm once again struck by the fact that Shawn Spencer could ever be this mature. "I want to be here for you," he finishes. "Like Gus is there for a, ancho-chipotle burrito." I smile. This sounds much more like Shawn.

"I guess I'm just trying to say—" but I will never learn what Shawn is trying to say, because this is when I kiss him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I am, once again, nervous about going into work the next day. I don't know how much stock Shawn has put into what happened last night, but when I see him, I can tell right away that he is just as unsure as I am. This time we don't put up the front of going to get coffee.

"Shawn," I say as I pass where he and Gus are standing outside the chiefs office. He follows me wordlessly until we round a corner into a neglected hallway. "Shawn, last night," I begin hesitantly. "Shawn, nothing happened."

"Jules—" Shawn starts to say something, but I interrupt. "I mean," I continue. "I've never told anyone that if I haven't had to. I just got…" I search for the correct word. "Caught up."

"Jules, listen," Shawn starts to talk again. "I know that maybe you can't deal with this right now, and I respect that, because I have no idea what it's like to go through what you are, which is why I offered my help, but Jules, he pauses, assessing my facial expression. "The truth is," he continues. "Something did happen, something big, and we can ignore it if you want, because if you cant' handle a relationship right now, that's understandable, but it's there, and I think we should get that on the table right now."

I sigh, "You're right, and I don't know what to do."

"It's up to you," Shawn says. "We can put it on hold until you're in a better place, or we can try to pursue it, see where it leads."

"Shawn," I am not entirely sure what to say, until I remember something that's been on my mind the past few weeks, like it always is at this time of the year. "Shawn, there's a dance."

"A dance," Shawn repeats. "Did I miss the memo? Are we back in high school?"

"It's at the hospital," I explain. "It's prom for the high school kids that can't attend their own."

"You want to gate crash?" Shawn asks. "Well, I don't know. I haven't done that in a while. I'd have to borrow Gus' copy of Wedding Crashers and brush up on art of crashing."

"I chaperone," I answer. "Every year since Grace was put on the transplant list. I guess I do it because I know she might end up going one day." We both knew the implications of the end of that sentence. There was the optimistic view, that she might be cured and going to the prom at her school, and the one we were both thinking of, that she may very well not live that long.

"Jules, I don't think chaperones are supposed to bring their own dates," Shawn points out.

"Well, technically, you would just be a chaperone," I answer. "But if we _happen_ to dance a couple of times…"

"I never thought I'd _chaperone_ anything," Shawn speaks the word as if it leaves a foul taste on his tongue.  
"You could just serve refreshments or something," I say. "You wouldn't actually have to interfere with anything. Come on, I know you've had serving jobs before."

Shawn sighs. "Okay," he answers. "Just tell me two things. First, I'm going to have to rent a cheap tux, because my mom says I can't spend more than sixty, and second, my curfew is one, so we'll have to skip out on after-prom."

I laugh as memories of failed attempts at high school prom come rushing back. I went three times, all of which ended miserably.

"Really though," I say. "I want a corsage to match my dress. It's blue."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

We are at the hospital. It has been nearly two weeks since the failed attempt at a transplant. Grace is getting a cardiovascular workup. I am in the waiting room. Shawn is beside me. I told him he didn't have to come, but he sensed I would need a hand to hold and/or a shoulder to cry on. This information does not make me feel any better.

"Juliet," a voice behind me says. Dr. Chen has reentered the waiting room. "Can I see you in my office?"

Shawn looks at me questioningly, wondering if he should follow. "It'll be fine," I tell him. "I'll be back in a minute." He nods, turns to the end table, and begins to shuffle around the pile of magazines.

"It's not good news," Dr. Chen says once I've sat down. Though I expected as much, my heart sinks. "Her heart's ability to sustain her body is decreasing," he continues. "Juliet," he pauses and looks down for a moment, a bad sign. "Juliet, she needs this heart soon."

"How long?" I ask, dreading the answer. "How long can she last?"

"A couple of months," Dr. Chen answers. "She should have at least a couple of months. Maybe three or four if she's lucky." I do the math in my head. Without a heart, Grace will not make it to Halloween. She already knows what she wants to dress as, a bride. I was going to let her go all out on this costume, because I wasn't sure if she would ever get to be one for real.

I take a couple of deep breaths, until I am able to speak again. I ask, "What are the chances of find a heart by then?"

Dr. Chen hesitates, trying to decide on phrasing. "Not great," he finally answers. "You know how rare pediatric hearts are."

"What about an adult heart?" I ask. "Can't you use one of those?"

"While Grace's life expectance with an adult heart wouldn't be decreased by more than two year," he explains. "The committee won't sanction an adult heart from the pool to go to a random child. The success rate of an adult heart is higher in adults. They won't overlook that. For Grace to get an adult heart, it would have to be willed to her."

I sigh, defeated. "Thank you," I murmur.

"If you want to sit here for a while, let it sink in," Dr. Chen suggests softly. I know he doesn't want me driving in this state. Four years of treating my daughter and we are practically family.

"No," I say. "Don't worry, I have a ride."

Shawn stands up as I emerge from Dr. Chen's office. I see concern grace his face when he lays eyes one my hunched posture.

"What?" he asks. I can hear the worry in his voice.

"You were right," I say, trying in vain to control the quiver in my voice, trying to blink back the tears. He gently pulls me in. I throw my arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder.

"I can't lose her," I whisper into his shoulder once I've caught my breath.

"You won't," I hear him reply as he rubs my back, trying to calm me down.

"You don't know that," I say before a thought dawns on me. I pull back. "Do you?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I know," Shawn answers, but it's not because he's had a vision. I can see it in his eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I'm distracted the next day at work. I don't even hear Lassiter's brief on the new case.

"O'Hara," he says after spotting staring out a window. "Pull yourself together. What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry," I say, snapping back to reality, only to drift off again a couple of minutes later.

"O'Hara," Lassiter cries a second time. "If you have somewhere else you'd rather be, by all means—"

"I'm fine, Carlton," I say, even though there is somewhere else I'd much rather be, though I guess Lassiter can't be expected to know that. He doesn't know anything about Grace. In fact, I've been wondering lately, if Grace…who would come to her funeral? Would it be just Shawn, the chief, and me, maybe Tom and Megan, Dr. Chen and an assortment of nurses?

"O'Hara!" Lassiter exclaims. "Really—"

"Lassie, lighten up," I turn around to see that Shawn has joined the briefing. He may have even been there from the beginning. I've been too caught up in my own world to notice. "I'm sure she has a valid reason for being distracted," Shawn continues.

"Yeah, well this is a big case," Lassiter says. "The media is going to be watching our every move. I really can't afford any mistakes on this one."

"Or what, they might call you Detective Dipstick in the paper again?" Shawn argues. "Other than knowing that I got to collect on yet another copyright infringement, what harm would that cause you?"

"This is about the honor of Santa Barbara PD," Lassiter informs him. "If I look bad, we all look bad."

"Come on Lassie," Shawn lowers his voice to a normal volume again. "She has bigger things to worry about right now." For the hundredth time this week, I am grateful fro Shawn.

"O'Hara," Lassiter walks away from the rest of the group, signally me to follow him. I gesture to Shawn to stay put before round the corner where my partner is waiting. "O'Hara, do you have some personal business you need to attend to?" he asks.

"No," answer.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asks.

"No," I repeat, and it is just as much a lie now as it was the first time.

"O'Hara, I don't want to do this," Lassiter is saying. "But if you can't keep your head in the game, I'm going to have to put a request in to the chief to take you off this case."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Do you think you can concentrate through the rest of the briefing?" Lassiter asks.

"Yes," I answer, though I have to pull my head back to the present to do so, because Dr. Chen's words are echoing through my head, as they have been all day.

"O'Hara, do you need to take some time off?" I am surprised by this question. At first, I wonder if he is hoping I will leave because I am getting in the way, but then I see the concern in his eyes. "I have to warn you," he says sternly. "If you leave now, I might not be able to get you back on this case. If it goes well, it could make your career."

This is the one decision I've been hoping I'll never have to make. I can stay at work and if this case goes well, I'll be guaranteed to be a chief of police on day, or I can go home and spend whatever time with my daughter she has left. The choice is easy really, I just hate making it. "I'll see you later, Carlton," I say over my shoulder, having already started out of the station.


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry about the delay guys. AP tests coming up. Anyone who's taken AP classes should understand.

* * *

Chapter 14

After what Dr. Chen told me a week ago, I hadn't wanted to chaperone that dance anymore. I'd wanted to stay home with Grace. Shawn would have understood. We could have done something here. It was all Grace, really, she hadn't let me cancel, so here I am pulling on a long, deep blue dress while checking the time on my cell phone. Shawn is supposed to be picking me up in a little over half an hour.

"Mom, relax," Grace says from outside the bathroom. She's laying on the bed. She can't walk very far without getting tired anymore. "It's going to go fine."

"I am relaxed," I call back, stifling a yell as I brush my hand against the heated curling iron.

"Yeah right," Grace replies, causing me to wonder if she heard the curling iron sizzle when I hit it.

"I don't see why you won't let me stay home," I say.

"You're already staying home from work for me," Grace answers. "You have to have some life. It can't all be me." _Because I might not be around for you much longer_. We both hear the last part of the phrase, even though she doesn't say it.

I exit the bathroom. "Well, someday, this will be you," I say, looking her in the eye, as if I can will it to happen. "And you'll have a boy coming to pick you up, and I'll be zipping up your dress instead of the other way around." I turn my back towards the bed. Grace pushes herself up and crawls towards me until she can reach my zipper to pull it up my back.

"Maybe," she answers shortly.

"You will," I say, determined. The implications of that phrase fall between us like a wall, and we're both silent for the next couple of minutes. Finally, Grace breaks the silence.

"I like Shawn," she says quietly, an approval, a blessing.

"Good," I say, and I am thoroughly relieved, because no matter how long Grace is planning on being around, I would never date someone she had a problem with. "I like him too."

"I should hope," Grace comments. "Hey Mom?"

"Hmm?" I ask, applying lipstick.

"Did you love Dad?" she asks. It is a question I am not expecting.

"Of course," I answer, turning to look at her. "Why do you ask?"

She doesn't answer, merely shrugs. "Do you love Shawn?" she asks.

This is a question whose answer I face months ago, during Shawn's kidnap, but I've never said it out loud, at least not all the way. "I think so," I answer, after some hesitation.

"More or less than Dad?" Grace asks.

"Grace, what's with all these questions all of a sudden?" I ask. "What's all this about?" Grace shrugs again, refusing to meet my eyes. "Honey," I say. "I like Shawn, but no matter where that goes, he's never going to replace your dad. That doesn't mean that I don't love him just as much, and it doesn't mean that you can't like him too. It just means that no matter how much we love Shawn, we're never going to stop missing your dad," I sigh. "That kind of pain never goes away."

Grace nods and looks back up at me. "You have more mascara on one eye than the other," she says.

"Do I?" I move back to the mirror. "Thanks."

"I think he's here," Grace says, peering out the window, down to the parking lot. I look.

"Oh good," I breath a sigh of relief. "He borrowed Gus' car." I just can't see myself riding down the street on his motorcycle in my long, blue dress.

"Have fun," Grace says. "Don't stay out too late. Remember to keep a foot between you at all times." I laugh. In all the time Grace spends at home, she watches way to many preteen movies.

There's a knock at the door. "Do you want to get it?" I ask.

"Yes," Grace answers, slowly pushing herself off the bed and making her way to the door. I hear Shawn's voice in the living room after a minute. I finish piling my supplies, anything I could possibly need, including a pocket calculator and a my library card, into my bag before entering the living room.

"Jules," I hear Shawn breath. I look up. He is wearing a black suit with a blue shirt. We just happen to match.

"It's Gus'," he says, as if having read my mind, which he very well might have. I doesn't take his eyes off me.

"Shawn, what is it?" I ask, starting feel a little insecure. I reach back to touch my hair, grabbing at nothing. I am not used to up-do's.

"Nothing," Shawn answers, shaking himself out of it. "Just the way you look tonight."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The evening has gone well. I have been checking names, while Shawn is stuck serving refreshments. Some of the kids I remember from previous years and some are new. Some are bald from chemotherapy, some tote air tanks, all are happy, and all are smiling. Every year I imagine Grace walking through these doors. Every year previous to this one I hope that she won't. I hope that she will be at her own prom. This year I would be thrilled to know that she will someday, because things have changed. In previous years her condition wasn't this urgent.

"How's Anna?" I hear one of the other women ask the woman standing next to me. Her name is Susan Tosh and her fifteen-year-old daughter has leukemia.

"She's great," Susan answers. "She's actually in remission now."

"Really?" the other woman says. Her name is Jen Hartman and her twelve-year-old son, Aaron, is waiting on a kidney. "That's great." We all know each other here. We see each other around, and we all chaperone the dance every year.

"What about you, Juliet?" Jen asks me. "How's Grace doing."

"Not well, I'm afraid," I answer gravely. "She needs a heart in the next couple of months or…" I trail off, looking away.

"I'm so sorry," Susan says softly. I have found these past few years that I don't mind talking to these women. As it happens, they are the only ones who can possibly understand what I am going through.

"Where's Stephanie?" Jen asks. She's referring to another mother that usually chaperones. Her seventeen-year-old has been to the dance three years running.

"You didn't here?" Susan lowers her voice. "They had to transfer Brittany to intensive care last night."

"What happened?" Jen asks.

"She went into cardiac arrest," Susan answers. "They're still trying to figure out what happened. She was on a new medication. They're retesting her for allergies."

I turn my attention from the conversation to look over at the refreshment stand for Shawn. I am surprised when he isn't there. That's when I hear a voice in my ear.

"Jules," he says, causing me to jump. "Let's dance."

"Shawn, I have a job to do," I gesture to the other women, both of whom are looking between Shawn and me with interest. They know the story behind my husband. They are probably surprised that they didn't know I was seeing anyone.

"Oh Jules," Shawn says. "Don't be a red backpack with three key chains."

"Shawn, I can't," I say.

"Oh, go on, Juliet," Jen says. "We'll cover you."

"Go," Susan agrees. "Have a little fun."

I set my clipboard on the fold-out table behind me and allow Shawn to lead me onto the floor. The song is Jon McLaughlin's _So Close_. I recognize it from one of Grace's favorite movies, _Enchanted_. I can't tell you how many times she's quoted lines from that movie at me. I would miss that.

Shawn stops and lays rests his hands on my waist and I suddenly feel like I am back in high school. The feeling in my stomach is reminiscent of my first slow dance. I don't remember the boy anymore, only that the song was Aerosmith and that I tripped on my heel.

We slowly start to revolve, and I finally meet Shawn's eye. "Relax Jules," he whispers. "Just because I won the international dance championship is no reason to be nervous. Besides, it wasn't really me. I entered Gus under my name." I laugh, and it breaks the tension. He pulls me close so that my arms are around his neck, my head on his shoulder. We spin slowly among the teenage couples as if we are one of them. They don't seem to care. I suspect that they don't even notice.

"Love you Jules," he murmurs into my hair. I am fairly certain I was not intended to hear, but I suddenly feel like I am going down a steep hill on a rollercoaster all the same.

The song ends to soon, and we reluctantly pull apart. "Shawn," I say nervously. I take a deep breath. I have just made a decision to do something I haven't done in years, since I met Ryan. "Will you come home with me tonight?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I am making eggs for Grace when Shawn finally makes an appearance the next morning. He is already dressed in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, and already looking presentable enough to go out. I am guessing this would not be the case at eleven on a Sunday morning if he was at his own house.

"Hi Shawn," Grace says wearily. She is not feeling well this morning.

"Hey," he says. He places his hand on my back as he passes behind me, but I know he is hesitant to touch me because Grace is in the room and he isn't sure how much she knows.

"Take a seat," I say. I start to dish eggs onto plates.

"Aw Jules," Shawn feigns disappointment when I dish out his eggs. "No smiley face bacon to go with it? I'm disappointed in you."

"How about next time you make breakfast then?" I ask, smiling. "Honey, you know you can't do that," I say, momentarily turning my attention to my daughter, who is reaching for the salt despite her dietary restrictions. She sighs and slumps back into her seat.

"Okay," Shawn answers, ignoring our whole exchange. "Who likes pumpkin pancakes?" I know better than to answer, because if I agree, he'll just go get carryout before either of us wake up."

"How was the dance?" Grace asks, changing the subject. She is grinning wickedly, and I know that she knows Shawn has been here since last night and exactly why, even though I made sure she was asleep before I let him enter the house.

"It was fine," I reply. "The same as it is every year."

"Want to bet?" she says quietly, more to herself than either of us.

"We had a good time," I look as Shawn.

"Did you dance?" she asks hopefully.

"We did," I answer. Shawn has chosen to remain quiet, unsure of how much information I plan to disclose to my nine-year-old.

"To what?" she asks. I suddenly feel like I'm a teenager being probed for details on my date the previous night.

"That song from the end on _Enchanted_," I tell her. I am not sure if she knows the name.

She gasps, "I love that song."

"It's a great song," Shawn says, speaking up for the first time, having finished his eggs.

"So close to reaching that famous happy end," Grace begins to sing quietly. "Almost believing this one's not pretend. Let's go on dreaming, though we know we are." Meanwhile, I begin to hum The Fray's _Never Say Never_, the only other song Shawn and I dance to before leaving.

"Wonderful everyone," Shawn says loudly. "Just like the Von Trapps. Now let's all try singing the same song."

I start to laugh. Then Grace's eyes roll back in her head, like they have been more recently lately. I wait for her to snap back to consciousness, only this time she doesn't.


	17. Chapter 17

So, I want to apologize about the numerous delays this story has experienced in the past month or two. I'm going to attempt to explain myself. At first the delays were caused by all the work my teachers were piling on me trying to get us ready for AP tests, and then once the AP tests ended, they all gave us projects to keep us occupied to the end of the year, so the past few weeks instead of writing, which, believe me, I'd rather be doing, I was working on seven projects. But now school's over, so there shouldn't be any more unforeseeable delays. I just wanted to let you guys know that I didn't forget about this story. I wanted to write it. I lost sleep over it.

So there's my explanation. Take it or leave it. Let me know in the reviews (hint, hint)

* * *

Chapter 17

"It's not good news," Dr. Chen says as he approaches us. I could have inferred as much. We are standing outside Grace's hospital room. She has spent most of the morning have tests run on her and is now sleeping. We found out a couple of minutes ago from a nurse that Dr. Chen had received the test results and was on his way to us. This time, I have Shawn with me for support. "She needs that heart," Dr. Chen continues.

"How long?" I ask the question with a certain edge to my voice. This is the only answer I care about.

"Optimistically," Dr. Chen replies. "A month, maybe a little long. She can't last long like this."

I take a deep breath and nod, but I can not trust myself to speak. I devote all of my energy to keeping myself from breaking down right here in the hallway. Shawn, whose arm was already around my waist, pulls me closer.

"Juliet," Dr. Chen says softly. "I think you should start to think about making arrangements." I know exactly what kind of arrangements he means: buy her a plot of ground, take her measurements for a casket. It will make everything easier when the time comes. The thing is, I don't think I could ever plan for my daughter's death while she's still alive.

Dr. Chen is walking away now, his head lowered. I know he has had to deliver this news many times, and no matter how many times you've done this, I wouldn't think you'd ever get used to telling a parent that it might be time to start saying goodbye to their child.

"This isn't happening," I whisper under my breath. Shawn hears me.

"She'll get through this," Shawn sounds confident. I notice that he did not tell me not to worry. I am grateful for that, because as much as I know Shawn loves Grace, he can not understand how I am feeling right now. As much as Shawn loves Grace, he is not her father.

I turn to look into Grace's room. She looks peaceful. Her blond hair is fanned beneath her head. Even with her slightly blue tint, she could be an angel. I wonder, for a split second, if this is what she will look like in her casket. Then I mentally slap myself for even letting that thought cross my mind.

A tear runs down my cheek, closely followed by another. Before I know it, I am leaning against the sliding glass door of Grace's hospital room, my body wracked with heaving sobs.

"Come here," Shawn murmurs, pulling me into his embrace. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and hold on as if my life depends on it. He rubs my back as I shake with sobs. He doesn't say anything, just allows me to cry. I wonder vaguely if this is what things would be like if Ryan was still alive. I am independent and I am tough, but that only means that when I finally break, I break into more pieces and it is difficult to put myself back together. Sometimes I can't do it on my own.

"Thank you," I whisper into Shawn's shoulder when the tears have receded enough for me to catch my breath, but I do not let go. I don't want to give of the comfort that having Shawn's arms wrapped around me brings. He doesn't let go either, because, maybe psychically or maybe by other means, he knows I need this. I feel his heart beating and I concentrate on it, because until I let go, I am not a part of this world. Until I let go, I do not have to face reality.

"She's awake," Shawn whispers.

"Oh no," I reply, still holding on. "What do I tell her?" How do you tell a nine-year-old that she's dying. "I wasn't ready for this," I sigh. I thought I would have a few more months to figure this out.

"Jules," Shawn says. "No one's ever ready for anything like this."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Today marks three weeks since the day Grace was admitted to the hospital, three weeks in this disgusting teal room hooked up to machines that hum and beep every so often and keep her awake at night, three weeks of eating specially prepared food that she can not keep down, not because of her illness, but because of the taste.

"Mom," Grace sighs. "How long do I have to do this?"

"Do what?" I ask. Shawn and are involved in a conversation, and her voice catches me off guard.

"This," Grace gestures to the machines before letting her had drop to her side. "I'm tired of it. I don't want to do it anymore."

"What do you want?" I ask, still unsure of exactly what she is getting at.

"I want to go home," she answers.

"Hon, I want that too, but you know you can't," I reply.

"Mom," Grace turns to me. Her cheeks have hollowed out these past few weeks, and her eyes are dark. I can see the veins of her forehead beneath her pale skin. "How long are we going to wait?"

"For a heart?" I ask. "As long as it takes."

She shakes her head, "I don't want to."

"Grace, what are you saying?" the pitch of my voice has changed. What was comforting before is suddenly urgent.

"What if it's just time for me to go, Mom?" she asks. "What if you just have to let me go?"

"Let you die?" I say in disbelief. "Grace, I could never do that."

"Why not?" she asks. "Didn't you say that if you could, you would give me everything I ever wanted. Didn't you say you just wanted me to be happy."

"Yes, but—" I begin to reply.

"Why not this, Mom," she continues. "I want this. This will make me happy."

"Grace, I am not letting you die," I say flatly.

"I'm probably going to die anyway," she argues. "It's just that this way, I'm ready for it, I know what's happening."

"You don't want to die," I whisper.

"I don't want to live like this," she replies.

Shawn is silent beside me. I am torn between deep concern that the extent of my daughter's pain is causing her to view death as an escape and disbelief that a nine-year-old could grasp the concept of dying on one's own terms.

"Grace," I shake my head. "You'll get through this."

"What if I don't?" she asks.

"You will," I assure her. Then I stand up and leave the room. Shawn follows me. For a few minutes, I stare at her though the glass, she has gone back to staring at the opposite wall, while Shawn faces the opposite direction, looking down the hall at nothing in particular.

"She is not going to die," I finally say through clenched teeth. "Because I can't live without her. I won't."

"I understand," Shawn says, and he doesn't mean that he understands how I am feeling, because we both know that he doesn't. He means that he understands I mean what I say, that I will not live without my daughter.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Mom, who do you think I'll come back as?" I have almost fallen asleep, but I snap my head up when I hear Grace's voice. It is the first time she has spoken since telling us she is done fighting. Shawn went home almost an hour ago.

"What?" I ask.

"Who do you think I'll come back as?" Grace repeats.

"You mean like, reincarnation?" I ask. "You believe in that?"

"I don't know," Grace shrugs weakly. "It's fun to think about."

"Oh," I say. I will not argue the fundamentals of religion with her. I will let her have fun. She has so little of it. "I don't know. Who do you want to come back as."

"A princess," Grace decides after a few seconds of thought. "Like in _Enchanted_, only real."

"So, a member of the royal family," I say. "Interesting."

"And I could have a horse named Frederick," Grace continues. "And a dog named Lola."

"Really," I say. "And what would your name be?"

"Princess Clarisse Anne Vivaldi the fourth," she answers decisively. I can tell that she isn't serious anymore. This has become a game.

"And what about brothers and sisters?" I ask, not wanting to deny her what could become the last game she ever plays.

"No brothers, ew," Grace replies. "Sisters, an older sister named Monica and a younger one named Francesca."

"Monica, Clarisse, and Francesca," I respond. "Well, you would be quite the group."

"We could go horseback riding every day," Grace continues. "And we would never have to go to school because we would be princesses, and people would be lining up at the door to give us their hearts." Silence falls upon us. Now this isn't even a game anymore. It is envy, bitterness, coming from a nine-year-old who was never really a kid.

"You could marry princes," I say, trying to cheer her up."

"Prince David," Grace smiles. "And we could rule the land." She is drifting off to sleep as she says this. I am holding her hand, as I have been for the past hour, and I bring it to my face. It is cool, but not cold, regular for a girl whose body temperature has always been slightly below normal. I hold it against my check as my other had strokes her hair. Asleep she looks happy, and I wonder is she is.

"Please don't give up," I whisper. "We can be happy again." Then a thought crosses my mind. "Have you ever been happy?" I ask her quietly. She nods in her sleep, and I wonder if it is just a coincidence or if she can subconsciously hear me. "I love you," I whisper, just in case she can.

That is when the door slides open. "Juliet," Dr. Chen says. "We have a heart, but I don't know how happy you're going to be about it."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I keep running through our last conversation in my mind. We talked about dinner, what he would pick up, and what change of clothes I wanted him to bring me. It had been such a trivial conversation, and then Grace had declared her will to die. That is what did it, I decide, because after that conversation, he hadn't spoken very much. He'd listened to me profess my concern, he'd comforted me, promised me that she would get a heart, something I should have listened closer to. Before he'd left, he'd told me he loved me. I hadn't answered, I had been preoccupied. I'd thought I would tell him the next time I saw him. I didn't think I wouldn't have another chance.

Dr. Chen offered to let me see Shawn while Grace was being tested. I took him up on it. I told him, but it wasn't the same, it will never be the same. It wasn't Shawn, it was just his body. The warmth he radiated was gone, as was the laughter from his eyes. I could still see the marks around his neck from the rope.

Grace has just been wheeled into the operating room, where her life will be in Dr. Chen's hands for the next five hours. For the first time, there is absolutely nothing I can do.

"Juliet," I hear, and when I turn around, I am shocked by the person I see. "How's she doing?" Gus asks.

"They just took her in," I answer. He nods. I can tell he has been crying. "Have you seen him?" I ask, lowering my voice.

"I didn't get here in time," he shakes his head. "They told us we would be able to once the organ harvest was complete."

"Us?" I ask, wonder who he brought with him.

"Henry's downstairs," Gus explains. "He's refusing to leave the hallway outside the morgue. He says he wants to see his son's body as soon as it gets back."

"Carlton and Chief Vick," I say. "Do they know?"

"Lassiter responded to the call," Gus answers. "And the chief oversaw the transport of the body personally."

"Good," I sigh. I do not want to be the bearer of bad news. I don't have it in me today, and I have a feeling Gus doesn't either.

"Juliet," Gus says. "What Shawn did…"

"I can't believe he did that," I murmur, shaking my head.

"He did it for you," Gus says. "I don't know if you know," Gus hesitates. "Exactly how much he loved you."

"He told me," I whisper. "And I didn't say anything back. I had other things on my mind. I thought I would tell him next time I saw him. I didn't know…"

I can not continue. I break into a fit of sobs, to the extent that I can't even hold myself upright. I lean against the wall and slid down it until I'm sitting on the floor. Gus sits down next to me and reaches his arm around my shoulders. He hugs me protectively. It is not the same as it would have been with Shawn, but I need the comfort. I cry into his purple button-down shirt, the one that was hundreds of dollars at sticker price, and I am too caught up to even feel bad about it.

"I've known Shawn for almost thirty years," Gus says. "And I can tell you for a fact that he wouldn't have done this for anyone else."

"You," I remind him.

"I don't think so, Juliet," I feel the rustling of my hair as Gus shakes his head. "I think this was all you."

"He'll never know how much I love him," I say, because this is what has really been bothering me this whole time.

"I think he knew," Gus says. "But you will never know the extent to which he loved you."

"After this," I sob as Gus rubs my arm to calm me down. "After this, I think I do."


	21. Epilogue

I feel I should point out after last chapter that I do not, by any means, condone suicide.

Also, as you might have gathered from the title, this is the end. I hope you guys enjoyed reading and I apologize once again for all the weeks at a time I went without updating. Thanks to all of you that stuck it out all the way through.

* * *

Epilogue

"I'm so proud of you," I exclaim as Grace approaches me. She has just been talking to her friends from the soccer team. Grace has taken up sports, since she now has the endurance of anyone her age, more even, since she is required to stay healthy. Soccer is her favorite. She jumped into it with both feet, and all those weekends in the back yard with the soccer ball allowed her to make up for her late start. She played four-year varsity.

Her sleek light hair hangs past her shoulders and her cheeks have a healthy pink glow. I dodge her flat hat as I hug her. Her tassel brushes my face. Below the collar of her dress and gown, the tip of her scar is just visible.

I did not go to Shawn's house right after he committed suicide to save my daughter. In fact, I didn't go within blocks of it until the noose had been taken down and the overturned chair removed from the kitchen. When I finally made myself go in, I took Gus with me. Shawn left three notes: one for Henry, one for Gus, and one for me. I have never parted with it. I carry it in my wallet, and sometimes, just by looking at the crooked, hastily scrawled words that were the last thing he ever wrote, I can hear his voice.

"You look so gorgeous," I say. I marvel at my daughter in her cap and gown, mostly because, for most of her childhood, I never thought I would get to see this day.

"Better than I did at prom?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. "Grace wore a long, lavender dress to prom. I have pictures of her with her boyfriend. Looking at them, I can tell how eager they'd been to leave for the friend's house where they were meeting the limo.

"Grace," we both turn our heads toward the sound. Gus is walking towards us. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Grace says. She can not stop smiling. That is one thing that took a lot of getting used to, her smiling again.

"Where is she?" I ask, looking around.

"I left her with Henry," Gus informs me. "She wanted to go to the playground." Gus gestures toward a jungle gym where I can see Henry helping a nine-year-old girl with long, brown hair, stunning smile, and a singsong laugh across the monkey bars. "Don't worry, Juliet," Gus says, when he sees me fiddle with my ring, as I always do when I'm nervous.

The ring is something Gus and I found when we went through Shawn's apartment. It was in a drawer. Gus found the little velvet box. I remember the anticipation in his voice when he called me into the room and handed it to me, without a word. I remember the disbelief when I popped it open.

"I wish he was here," I say. It is a phrase I once uttered all the time, but as the years have progressed, I've said it less and less often, not that the thought doesn't run through my mind all the time.

"I know," Gus says. "I do too."

"Hey guys!" Grace calls towards the playground. "Let's go eat!" Henry helps the girl off the monkey bars and they start towards us. Henry has been with us from the start. The girls are all he has left of his son.

"Where are we going?" Henry asks as he approaches. I turn to Grace. It is her day.

"Let's forget lunch," she says, smiling as if she is a child again, a regular child. "Let's just get ice cream."

It is times like this that I am so grateful to Shawn for what he did, more so than I am on a regular basis, if that is possible. I miss him horribly, but because of what Shawn did, I am finally able to dream again, to dream of Grace graduating from college, on her wedding day, visiting with children of her own, rather than living from day to day wondering if she would still be alive in a year, in six months.

"Cool!" the little girl exclaims, wrenching her hand from Henry's grasp. "I'll race you to the car, and she starts running. I glance from Grace to Gus for a second, before taking off running, trusting that everyone will follow as I run after Shawn's daughter, run after Faith.


End file.
